


Hurt

by TwistedDuck



Series: I will not give up and I will not give in [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cutting, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5163818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedDuck/pseuds/TwistedDuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're dating Sam Winchester. As much as you love him you still suffer from debilitating depressive episodes. However you are determined to hide them from him and cope alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt

Waking up the first thing you noticed was the absence. Rolling over, your hand found a piece of paper where Sam should have been. Lifting it close to your blurry eyes you could just make out your boyfriend’s hurried scrawl.

I tried to wake you, I promise. We should be back in a few weeks.  
Love you  
Sam

Great! You couldn’t even wake your useless ass up to kiss him goodbye. What if something happened and you hadn’t said I love you to him one last time? What if something happened because you weren’t there to stop it? You really were a selfish bitch you know. Why didn’t you just man up and get on with it like Sam & Dean? God knows they’d been through hell. Literally. What gave you the right to be so self-absorbed?

You’d managed to get your boyfriend (such a pathetic term for what he really was for you; life-raft, oxygen, survival) to leave you behind by faking a migraine. Sam knew you suffered with them so it was easy to fool him. In reality you needed some time to indulge the dark chasm which was growing inside you without it infecting Sam, Dean & Cas. You hoped that a week or so of throwing your own personal pity party would help falter the slippery slope you were on mentally. Knowing you had enough time to heal, you calculated that you could allow yourself to fall fully into old destructive coping methods without Sam ever finding out. Fortunately being a hunter meant that your body was already covered in scars enough to hide those you intended to inflict upon yourself.

Dragging yourself from yours & Sam’s bed you staggered to the bathroom and dug through your feminine hygiene bag. The boys would be too shy to ever look in here which meant it was the perfect place to hide your razor blades. Sliding out a fresh blade and opening the paper cover had a deliciousness no non self-harmer could ever comprehend. It felt so pure, so full of promise. The blade reflected the light and sent a thrill of anticipation down your spine. Digging the corner into the soft skin of your forearm you slashed the blade across, repeating it in several places until the deep almost blackened bobbles of blood became small streams joining and flowing down into your palm. Repeating the process on your other arm until you felt fully at ease with the disgust within you, you stared with a sick kind of fascination at your own blood. Running your fingers over the larger droplets causing the surface tension to break, you played with it before writing the word TOXIC on the mirror with your bloodied finger tips. 

Satisfied by all the endorphins now coursing through your body, you retreated back to bed, pulled Sam’s pillow into you and fell asleep comforted by his smell and the biting pain radiating through your arms.

You awoke fifteen hours later to your phone vibrating on the bedside table. Groggily answering it you heard Sam’s relieved voice on the other end.

“Baby are you okay? I’ve tried you three times. Why didn’t you answer? I’ve been worried sick. I nearly sent Cas to find you”

“NO! DON'T!” you blurted out in return. 

The idea of Cas finding you in your current condition terrified you. You knew he’d feel duty bound to tell Sam and Dean about your injuries. 

Recovering slightly you said “I’m fine and you need Cas there. I’m sorry Sammy; I didn’t mean to scare you. I took some strong painkillers and they knocked me out. But I’m starting to feel better now. Just a bit exhausted. How are you? How’s the hunt going?” You hated lying to him but it was better than the alternative in your opinion. 

Sam’s tone was a lot more relaxed now he knew you were safe. He filled you in on the case, Dean’s drunken antics and what they’d been up to in general. Hearing his voice made you ache for him so badly you almost wished you had gone with them. That was until you moved your arm and felt the burning pain of your cuts. You needed to release this misery before it infected Sam. Better a fortnight apart than permanent separation once he knew how fucked up you really were. 

An hour later and Sam was being hollered at by Dean to get off the phone and back on the case. After many I love yous accompanied by groaning from Dean in the background, Sam rang off leaving you alone again with the emptiness of the bunker pushing in on you. You knew you needed to cry but having to hide your feelings everyday meant you found it harder and harder to just let go. Only one thing was guaranteed to release the tears building up in you. Grabbing your iPod out of your bedside cupboard, you shuffled through the songs until you found what you were looking for. Pressing play you heard the beautiful acoustic guitar intro before the tired raspy voice began to sing “I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focused on the pain, the only thing that’s real…” Johnny Cash was by no means your favourite artist and the song was a cover but his voice brought such meaning to the lyrics. You knew he felt every word and that his confession pained him. Before you’d even reached the second verse, the dam had broken. Crying didn’t come close to describing what you were currently doing. Babies cried. People cried at weddings or romantic movies. Howls of pain and misery ripped from your throat as if you were mortally wounded. Great racking heaving sobs that started deep down in your guts and worked all the way up through your body. They were exhausting. Every muscle ached as your body fought to reject all the pain you’d bottled up for so long. Struggling for breath you dug your fingernails back into your fresh cuts. Eventually your sobs eased down into gentle weeping. Drying your eyes enough to see, you switched to one of your favourite albums before drifting back to sleep. 

When you woke up later, you genuinely did have a migraine. The beating your body and brain had been through in the last day or so left your poor head throbbing. Feeling nauseous you dragged yourself to the kitchen for painkillers and plenty of water before collapsing on the sofa in the library. You hated the bunker without the boys. Dean was like your big brother and one of your closest mates and Sam was your, well, everything. Although it had taken Cas longer to trust you, you’d gotten pretty close to him too. This reminded you to check your phone. It was 8am. You texted Sam to tell him you loved him. Then texted Dean to tell him to make sure they both got some sleep and to on no account worry about you, everything was fine but you would only be checking in once a day so that they could concentrate on the case. Hopefully this would placate the boys for a bit. Within a few minutes Dean had replied “Okay Mom! I’ll make sure we both eat our greens too shall I?” Laughing you replied “Don’t make me come over there Dean Winchester or I’ll be forced to teach you a lesson young man!” Your phoned beeped as Dean replied “Is that as kinky as it sounds?” You were about to reply that he should get his mind out of the gutter before another text came in, this time from Sam. “I love you too. Which is why you can’t stop me worrying about you whether you like it or not. Oh and stop flirting with my brother xxx” Smiling you replied “Excuse me? For that disgusting accusation Samuel Winchester you will be punished when you get back here. And you can tell Dean that your punishment will be of a kinky nature”. Within seconds you had two texts back. One said “You’re only encouraging me to be naughtier you know” and the other saying “Dude! Gross! I need to bleach my brain now”. You sent one last text back to both saying you’d text them tomorrow and to say hi to Cas for you. Then as the painkillers kicked in you let your tired brain go back to sleeping fitfully for the rest of the day. Only leaving the sofa to use the toilet, drink more water or to attempt eating which failed miserably.

By the third day you lost the ability to sleep anymore despite your continued exhaustion. Once again texting the boys for a quick check in, you spent the day wandering the bunker with your headphones in listening to your favourite band and waiting for a reasonable time to start drinking. At 11am you gave in. To be fair your body clock was fucked anyway so to you it could easily have been 11pm. Never being a fan of beer, you kept the kitchen stocked with rum and vodka plus plenty of soft drink to mix it with. Grabbing a pint glass, you slopped a generous serving of rum into the bottom before topping it up with diet cola. Downing half the glass in one swig made you feel instantly more relaxed. Usually your drinking was social only and you preferred it that way but when your depression reared its ugly head you were happy to indulge in a bout of alcohol abuse. Giving up on being classy after the first glass, you just poured away some of the 2 litre bottle of diet cola and topped it back up with half a litre of rum. You dragged yourself back to bed and sat there rereading your favourite book and drinking yourself into a stupor. Realising all that liquid was suddenly bursting to get out of you, you dived into the bathroom for a piss. Staggering back up you noticed the dried TOXIC still on the mirror giving your drunken destructive brain a fantastic idea it couldn’t resist. After washing and drying your hands you reached into your toiletries bag and pulled out the razorblade from the other night. Rolling your sleeve up to your shoulder, you carved TOXIC into the soft skin of your upper (non-dominant) arm. Smiling as the blood washed away your anxiety, you crawled back on the bed, texted Sam a quick hi before passing out.

Rolling over you yelped yourself into consciousness as the memory of why your arm hurt so bad swam back to you.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! You ran to the mirror ignoring the throbbing hangover and investigated the damage. There it was; a gaping mess of deep cuts spelling the word TOXIC forever in your arm. There was no way you could hide this from Sam. But you could minimalise it hopefully by stitching it up and taking care of it. Turning round you noticed the state of the bed which was slick with your blood. Balls, that all needed washing too. Deciding that could wait, you walked through to the kitchen and grabbed the boys’ trusty first aid kit. After cleaning and sterilising the wound, you stitched it up the best you could with only one hand before covering it in fast heal cream and gauze. Next you had to tackle the bed which was -as you feared- stained through to the mattress and duvet. Putting the bloodied bedding in the wash you set to work scrubbing and bleaching the mattress and duvet until they were only lightly stained. By rotating the mattress and duvet you could probably get away with blaming the stains on your monthly visitor. Embarrassing? Yes. Likely to get you kicked out the bunker or certified? No. There was no competition then. Once the bed was remade and the bathroom cleaned the only evidence left was you but hopefully the next two weeks would take care of that. 

On the positive side, you could now at least feel the fog lifting. As you’d started the day cleaning you thought you may as well continue to do so as it was proving somewhat therapeutic. You tidied yours and Sam’s room, discarding any clothes that where past saving. Seriously Sam had kept clothes with more holes than material. Why did boys do that? The kitchen was next to be decluttered and cleaned before you methodically worked your way through the rest of the lived in areas of the bunker. You also made sure everyone’s laundry was clean, dry and folded back in their drawers. You finished off your day by having your first shower in a week then climbing into your freshly made bed in one of Sam’s old plaid shirts.

In your first completely dreamless sleep for weeks you were too out of it to notice the noise of their arrival. Or the fumbling in the dark as someone swiftly took off all their clothes until they were just wearing boxers and tee shirt. Or the dipping of the mattress as your beautiful Moose slid under the sheets next to you. But nothing could stop you stirring when his arms reached around your waist and pulled you into him. 

Gentle kisses on your head and whispers of “I love you” made you nestle further into his chest as you woke. You looked up at him through sleepy eyes and said “I love you too baby”. Wrapping your arms around him in return, your heart swelled with joy about having your Sammy back before it sank like a rock into the pit of your stomach when you realised what the repercussions of that meant. Adrenaline coursed through your body as you tried to figure out what to do. Sam felt you stiffen then begin to shake next to him. “(Y/N) baby what’s wrong?” Mumbling something about needing the toilet you hurried into your bathroom and closed the door behind you. Locking it, you began to pace up and down. You were fucked. Totally and 100% royally fucked. There was absolutely no way Sam wasn’t going to find out. Stupid, you were so stupid. Why didn’t you fake a hunt to go on instead of bringing this into your home? It’s what you did last time. You told the boys a friend needed your help, left for a few weeks and came back new and refreshed. Okay maybe a few more cuts and bruises but they were easily blamed on whatever you said you had been hunting. 

A sharp knock on the door brought you back to the present. “Baby let me in please” It wasn’t a request and you knew that Sam fucking Winchester would be entering that bathroom one way or another. Taking a deep breath you unlocked the door and went to sit on the closed toilet seat. This was it. You had to come clean. “Sam….I…” but before you got any further Sam swept you into his arms, kissed your lips and said “I know baby” before carrying you through to the bedroom and sitting back on his side of the bed with you on his lap. In a rush to get it all out in the open he said “I’ve always known. Your scars were too regulated to be accidental or from hunting. Do you think I can’t tell when your depression is bad? You’re my world (Y/N). I never brought it up as I wanted you to tell me when you were ready to. But please understand it’s nothing you should ever be ashamed of. And trust me, I hate that you hurt yourself, I really do but if it helps you cope, it’s your body and your decision. Plus, and please don’t get mad but Cas may have visited you invisibly a couple of times while you slept, just to make sure you hadn’t hurt yourself too badly. It took all his effort not comfort and to heal you but he promised me he wouldn’t interfere as long as you were not in serious danger. But seriously baby, how could you ever believe you are toxic? You’re the purest soul I’ve ever met. I want to marry you (Y/F/N). And have a honeymoon in the sun, and get at least 3 dogs” he chuckled. 

Never mind Johnny Cash, Sam’s words didn’t just break the dam so much as explode it. Sam knew. He’d always known and yet he still loved you. Scratch that, he wanted to marry you! You buried your face in his chest and wept until you fell asleep; safe and protected in the arms of the man you loved and who unconditionally loved you back. And for you that was more than enough to always keep fighting for.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this was a little self-indulgent and mostly to work through my own shit. It's repetitive but that's how depression is. I'm putting up as I'm hoping somebody out there will find comfort from it if they're suffering through the same feelings.


End file.
